Eight Hours

      My brother recommended a program, so I installed it. Ever since, I've been getting pop-up ads. I deleted the programs, but I still get the ads, and don't know what to do. It's actually quite a hassle, because when they pop up at a time I'm using a full-screen program; it closes it automatically. Well, it minimizes it; but still, it throws me right off. Especially if it's NFSW and I'm going full speed ahead, doing a race or whatever. Bam! Into a wall. And then I need to press Control+Alt+Delete, because the ad wants to install something and it starts it automatically. On top of that, it doesn't let you cancel the task. It lets you click the X all you want, but nothing happens. So I just start Task Manager and forcefully remove it from my desktop. A real pain, definitely. I'm probably going to have to delete everything and do a complete reinstall because of that one program, which I didn't even really get to use.
      Damn ads. Fine. I just hope my progress can be saved this time...I need to find some blank CDs so I can back up my files.
      Hah! Gold! When I wrote that, an ad popped up saying I had to back up my files. Pure gold!
      In eight hours, give or take a few minutes - to a half hour - I will be getting a license. Oh, don't worry, world...It's not a driver's license! It's just going to be a license to fish. Yes, I will be going fishing. Descaling, gutting, pulling their ovaries from their mouths - it should be a riot. Except...I'm not sure it's such a good idea anymore. Last time I was anywhere near a fire; I got a hot coal in my eye! I should be blind, but I guess I am luckier than I always claim to be. So now I'm going fishing, without the intent of cooking it for myself. I don't see the point, but if anything, the experience could be fun...if not totally nauseating. I just hope I don't gag!
      But, it's not like I'm going fishing right away. I just intend on getting the license and then returning to my womancave where I belong. Out there all I can do is eat, work, rest a bit, be teased, listen to stories that bore me, be told about conversations that are none of my business, and hear yet more stories that simply gross me out. And in here, I can do whatever I please! Sleep, watch movies, play games, talk to people, find new people to talk to when the old ones start annoying me. Basically I have the entire world at my disposal in here; and because it's all over the Internet, I can't even be too hurt when a friendship fails. It's not like I knew the person, got too close, and had him actually reach into my chest and break my heart. Nah, they just say some mean words that are supposed to affect me the same way, and then sign off. It's actually funny, in a sense. But then again, I laughed when Lori died in The Walking Dead. I laughed when what's-his-face in Resurrection lost what's-her-name. So maybe I'm the mean one!
      My cravings are acting up again. It's so bizarre. I've been craving spicy foods, hot sauce, things I cannot stand. My current craving, which I think I will satisfy tomorrow, is vanilla pudding with graham crackers. Sounds tasty!
      Well, the night is no longer young and my head is pounding. It feels like somebody hollowed it out with a carving knife, and set up train tracks; and a bunch of trains are passing through blowing their whistles. Owww. So I'm going to bed now...'Bye.

In Spite Of All That Happened

      The weatherman said it would be +thirteen degrees out today. So, today we decided to try again to make plans to go out and do something fun. Well, it worked. Yes, we did it, at last. I took fifty-six pictures; not one of which is good enough to share. I got dizzy twice just because I knelt to take two pictures. I hurt my ankle pretty badly. And let's see, what else? Oh, right. The bear we spotted maybe twenty feet away. Thankfully it was already eating something (or someone; we didn't stick around to find out) and it let us walk away.
      But, in spite of those negative factors, I had a great time. We got chicken burgers and pop, and even though we stayed dry for the entire trip; it did rain, so I got my wish - eating chicken with an open window as it rains. And we parked to eat in a place where we could hear a waterfall; and I predicted all the cars passing by and I was only wrong once!
      We went to the dam where X-Men: The Last Stand was filmed. As usual, we didn't get - or rather, take - the opportunity to go inside. We just took pictures from the opposite end and then drove overtop of it coming home. And I saw a man driving behind us, or maybe it was the woman with the ponytail; but her face looked so much like my brother's that I had to remind myself it wasn't him.
      Well, I'm going to leave now, because I'm pretty much talking to myself, and I do that enough without coming online...What can I say? I'm always here to listen to me! I don't know what I'll do next, probably take a nap, but I'll think of something. I have a book to write, another to fix, a plentiful supply of movies - some of which don't even belong to me, but I get to borrow them whenever I want, pretty much. I have a piano to play, friends to see if they're still my friends, an Ipod to listen to - again - and supper to think about. And if all else fails, I can upload the crappy photos. Whatever. I'll think of something.

One Problem Gone

      My earphones are falling apart. The wire next to the earbud is showing. On top of it, I think they did some internal damage. I'm not a doctor, but now I can't even start to put them in without it being really painful.
      So, today - technically on the 24th (I really need to go to bed) - I went out and fixed it. I bought this headset with earmuffs. They are so amazing! I've never heard so many things before! There are sounds in my games I didn't know were there. I hear more notes in the music I play; and the volume is so loud that I can hear it from the living room, even though by that time they were already plugged in! I had to turn it down just so I could focus on my multitasking...And the Sim voices were horribly loud. I kept forgetting I could change the volume of that and I just kept zooming out. And when their damn phone rang I almost dented the roof with my head!
      We also hit Superstore to go grocery shopping. I swear, they were playing the Shrek soundtrack CD, because they played two songs used in Shrek 4Ever After. I wouldn't be surprised if they had been playing the other songs in the franchise, too.
      We got some Reese Puffs cereal and more blueberry muffins (but we got those at least a day sooner than the other stuff). I had three today alone, and one yesterday. I really need to slow down! But they're so good. They're healthy, so I don't feel bloated; they're sweet, so my craving for chocolate is gone when I eat one; and they're mild, so they don't hurt my teeth. Plus there's no preparation involved. I dieted on them when I was sick; but now I'm enjoying them while I'm healthy! It sure is good to feel good. And to think, I never had to go to the doctor. Quite a few years ago, I found something better! Tylenol, except liquefied. It cures my bronchitis within a week each time!
      And my allergies are once again messing with me. Now I'm allergic to milkshakes, but not ice cream. I've also developed an intolerance to potatoes...Who knew? Cheese has begun bothering me again, though for a week in the least it was the only thing that didn't. I can't eat the potatoes, and I can't eat the pizza my brother made. I even lost interest in writing down the recipe. (Yes, I need to write down the recipe for pizza. I know you need fruit and dough, but I need the instructions too, because I'm a hazard in the kitchen without them. So, y'know, get over it.)
      And, let's see. What else in my life is so interesting you'll be holding your breath? Gee. What else? Well...I've made no progress whatsoever with my piano, though not for lack of trying. And...I can't figure out my Ipod or MP3 player, even though my brother gave me the simplest directions (that's a whole other kind of recipe).
      And, well, that must be it, because I'm boring myself. Book's at a dead end. Quite literally. I killed off two people and another character will soon die. I just need to figure out how to write about a war that took place in the time of my great-great-great-great grandparents. I can write about soldiers, no problem. Guns are firing, people are dying, soldiers are carrying half-alive soldiers back to base to fix them up, people are going on leave, blah blah blah. Add a sun here, a rainfall here, a fall in the mud there, and you've got yourself a story. But a war before artillery, before electricity? Back when people traded cattle for farmland? I've got my work cut out for me. And I still have 340-some pages or so before I reach my goal.
      But, at least I've had about sixteen climaxes in my book. It's gotta be interesting, y'know? Too bad I have goals and rules for my hobbies. It makes them tough. But it'll be one hell of a day when I can achieve them! I'll probably go running down the street in my shoes and pajamas at maybe five PM yelling "Whooooooo!" all the way down the road. Grabbing people by the collars of their shirts. "Hey pal, guess what?" Maybe I ought to rub ketchup on my clothes. "Guess what I just finished doing? Hahaha! I might do it again...I just need to plan ahead!"
      Ooh boy, clearly my interminable inertia is screwin' with me. Yeah. Yeah, that's it. 'Night all.

YAWN!

      It shouldn't even be possible to go so long on so little sleep. I've been awake until 4AM or later for a week at the very least. I keep promising myself that tonight I'll take sleeping pills, tonight I'll take two, but then I schluff off to bed without taking even one.
      Not like it matters. Last time I bothered with it, the damn thing gave me energy and I cleaned house.
      My eyes are burning. My head is spinning. My mind is still whirring but my body is still trying to shut down. I am tired. I need rest! But of course, I can go to bed at 8PM, sleep uninterrupted until 3PM the next day, and still be more tired than when I went to bed the previous night. It's just not my - ah, screw it - life! The only reason I keep going is my family; that's the only good part about living. Everything else sucks. I sleep, but am never rested. I eat, but can never get full. I have several deadly health conditions that just don't want to kill me! Seriously! What's the delay about?
      Yes, I love my family. No, I'm not scared of death. Why should I fear the one thing I don't need to live with? My biggest worries are getting my will finished and legalized, becoming an organ donor and maybe even getting life insurance. Once those are done, my soul is free to take. Onward and upward.
      Well, onward, anyway.

The Night's Still Young

      Well, things here are going okay. I fixed my book, moved to Sims 2 because Life Stories is bringing me down, and things in that game are flyin'. My girl is pregnant with her eighth child - ninth, if she has twins again. And then I only need her to have so many more before her lifetime wish of having ten kids is fulfilled. Phew! I think that's where I'll stop; because after that wish is completed they want twenty kids, and that's ridiculous. And who knows how many kids they'll want after they get those twenty kids!
      Besides, two babies at once is enough. Her husband was at work, her kids were at school, and she was juggling their needs. The baby girl had to fall asleep reeking of a dirty diaper while her brother was cared for; and I had to bring the fridge, garbage can, and two sinks into the room just so I could bathe them, feed them, and dispose of the formula bottles without making her run up and down the stairs. I think if she has twins again I'll just make their needs static, so they can just focus on life a bit before they grow up. (I wish I could do that for real. I'd freeze my needs and motherlode the shit out of myself!)

      I guess I'll go wash my hair now. It should be a good time to do it. And then, well, I might just make something hot to eat. I'm bloody freezing my hands off. Yet again.

A Sims Oddity

      I was gaming earlier, playing The Sims 2, and I directed my child Sim to change her appearance. I had just bought a floor-to-ceiling mirror and that was the one I clicked on. So, she gets to the mirror and a stool appears under her feet. A friggin stool. And she's using a full-length mirror; I mean, really?
      I told my family about it. They laughed and didn't believe me. So, I showed them. And I would insert the image I took, so I could show you too; but surprise, surprise, you can add photos to your blog by using everything except your own collection on the computer. Just another oddity; only millions of trifles more inconvenient.
      Well, I had planned to do my treasure hunt with a driver whose streak is only a week long. But I just don't care about it anymore. It's just a week; and let's face it, virtual progress can only get me so far. I guess I'll practice playing my piano. I already have completed Canon in D and Ave Maria. Now it's time to learn, and hopefully master, some Nightwish songs.

So Here I Sit

      Guess I'll be getting to bed even later than last night. I don't know why I didn't bother getting out of bed until 4:30...it's not like I didn't sleep last night. Went to bed before 1AM, fell asleep pretty quickly, slept uninterrupted until 10. The start of the 17th could have been just as nice as the end to the 16th.
      So, my book is rapidly climbing to its 65th page. It's getting good, too! One of my characters is being held hostage by the man her sister loves; and I haven't even introduced the character it was all supposed to be about. She might just have to wait for another book; I mean this is a story all by itself. It's certainly not the magic PC Cast can conjure, but hey, this is a magic that's all mine!
      In other news I think I might be developing OCD. Everything has to be straight. Grammar has to be correct. I can only wear black out of the house. If I eat five chocolates, each wrapped in a different color; I have to eat them in the order they would come in if it was a rainbow. Oh, and you just do not round off the numbers on your clock - if it is 3:29, it is not 3:30, it is 2:29, end of story. I'm getting on my own nerves! And yet, I don't want to change it. Bah.

@#$%

      **ck my life. I am so tired of everything. Guys especially. I swear, they're only *i**s because they have *i**s. They can just rot in ****. Excluding the good guys in my family, I give up on them. They're just not worth this ****. ****ing ***holes.

Needed That Nap

      I went back to bed when we came home, like I said I would; and fell asleep almost immediately. I even dreamed. It was about me, some strangers with their baby, and a childhood friend who I haven't seen in years (come to think of it, it has been awhile since we had just even a phone chat). It's extremely bizarre that I would dream of her, since I had incorporated a character by the same name into my book just recently (and because to my immediate knowledge, I never have dreamed of her before).
      Well, I suppose I have been watching too much of The Walking Dead; because there were zombies, too. And not surprisingly, we had a massive throng that broke the - can you guess? - chain link fence. My friend, who hadn't aged at all, was just a girl and she was terrified; and for some reason I was playing the role of her parent. I suppose my creative, unconscious self hates zombies; because all the furniture was perched all nice and snug on the top bunk of a bed. I'm not even sure why I was so proud of it; all the ladders were in the cellar, the furniture was upper-floor level and the zombies could have easily gotten me. But anyway, here we are climbing these ladders, terrified of and prepared for a war that never came; listening to a baby laughing as we watch all these zombies spill out into the yard.
      I used to be able to control my dreams; which isn't even untrue. I could control my own movements, what I said, what I did, where I went. Not the situation itself, but me. And I would have this voice telling me, "It's alright, it's a dream. You're asleep, safe at home."
      But now I can't do that. The fear has always been real; but now I don't have that voice, telling me I'm safe. The dream version of me is much more scared.
      This one time, in a dream where it was rainy, I controlled a car even though I wasn't in it. Another time I was searching this glorious mansion and the forest beyond it for my sister, who had completely changed her appearance and was living outside in a barn with no doors, with a bunch of other people and a bunch of cats; and I barely recognized her as I walked by. And the mansion was in the middle of moving in, and I was sidestepping all these burlesque men in their tees, and all I could do was ogle the house and the farm animals I would see from the giant windows. Another time I was running through a house, my family was with me and we were in danger; and this damn house kept manipulating its shape, taking away all the exits or making them lead right back inside. Another time I was two inches tall and living in a Styrofoam house. Another time I had climbed a tree to rescue a possessed bird egg. In all of these dreams, I could control my actions.
      That's not even the weird part. The weird part is that all went away when I blogged about it for the first time, asking anyone if they could relate. Now when I dream of zombies, I wake up thinking it was real. And then I calm down and wonder why my dreams aren't as special. They're still very vivid, but I miss the days when I could control the dream version of myself. It sounds more than crazy, and I wouldn't be too surprised if I'm tracked down and locked up; but it's true. They're just made less predictable now, and the fear I feel in my dream is actually still there when I wake up.
      Yeah. I hear it too. Sounds psycho. If I wasn't the one it was happening to, I probably wouldn't believe it either.

Just As I Thought

      Today was, just as I had suspected, extremely disappointing. Not only did I delete over fifty photos in anticipation of taking more; but I couldn't even take just one. And of course, I listened to my mother's advice and did not bring a jacket; so I couldn't enjoy the only stop we did make. It was bloody cold out there, and so I spent most of that stop in the damn car. Out of that entire trip I spent maybe four minutes outside the car; and one of those minutes was the estimated thirty seconds it takes to get to and from the car.
      And naturally, I got three hours of sleep last night. So, I'm off to bed again. Best part of the entire day. It must almost pay not to get my hopes up; because I have an embarrassment of riches in disappointments. Goodnight, world.

Just My Luck

     Well, my routine is shot again. My bronchitis-or-whatever-the-hell-it-is was clearing up, but of course now that tomorrow is supposed to be a beautiful and fun day, my body is acting up to whatever I ate (which was just some chocolate and Instant Potatoes; I haven't been feeling much like eating).
      But at least I have my book, which is stuck. At least I have my Sims game, whose progress is being eaten by the game itself (a grave disappeared after almost a bloody year of getting just to where I am). At least I have my movies, which I can't watch with snacks unless I sneak in small stuff that doesn't crumble/isn't juicy. No, I'm not even supposed to have little bits of chocolates in here, but movies just aren't complete without some kind of snack. I'd really prefer something crunchy and salty, but of course that would crumble. But at least I have my health - sort of. I'm still not quite up to one hundred percent; though I might be if I hadn't forgotten three out of four doses of medicine yesterday. And two today. Well, I had been doing well.
      I'm off. I need to wash my hair. Tomorrow we might be going down to Rolly Lake if it's open or maybe even White Rock. Or Whitehorse, or whatever the hell it's called. It's a beach, that much I know. I'm thinking of buying some fast food and actually enjoying the outing. Bring a blanket, a camera. Some bug spray. Some bear deterrent. Some pepper spray. Whatever.
      I've always wanted to run barefoot across the shore as the tide comes in; leaving my footprints in the sand beside me as the waves crash against my ankles. I've dreamed of riding a horse, too; and eating salmon smoked by a sizzling campfire. Or at least a grill. I just want to get off this damn computer seat and enjoy life before I croak. One day would be nice. One day where I can live all my fantasies. Curl up in a tent in fuzzy pajamas as the Benadryl I'd dribbled on my ice cream induces sleep and kills my motor for twenty hours. Wake up to the next sunset and boot it to the nearest restaurant for chicken burgers and fries; then go home and sit around a table that takes up half the living room and see every single person in my family as we laugh and joke and talk until our lips fall off.
      Yep. Sounds wonderful.
      But no, I'm going to wash my hair and most likely wake up to just another disappointing tomorrow. But one can dream, can't one?

On The Mend (Hopefully)

      I never want to leave the house when I'm sick. But, it has gotten so bad that I did not have a choice today. Thankfully, I didn't get rushed to the hospital because I'd stopped breathing; but I'm just trying to prevent that.
      I got some medicine. I don't know why, but pills just don't cut it. This is liquid Tylenol, and for whatever reason, it cures bronchitis in a matter of days. At least, it always has for me. It's never failed, so I'm counting on it once again. I don't even know if it's bronchitis, but it is going around. One of my sisters has it, but she's so far away from me. I probably contracted it from one of the jackasses who coughed on me. Two people did, in one Goddamn store. They didn't even bother covering their mouths, so I'm pretty sure it was done on purpose.
      "I'm suffering, so should you. Here, have some!" Patooey! Damn idiots. Like they didn't learn anything about hygiene or morals from their mommies, or the education system; and these people were at least my eldest brother's age, or older. You would think they would know about germs and care enough not to spread them. For all they know, I want a doctorate and will one day be in charge of pulling the plug or not, and I can carry a grudge for a fucking lot of years. I have gone years and years and years without getting bronchitis, or whatever the hell this is; and they go and spoil that? Yeah, that right there is a grudge. Damn ugly word, though.
      Shit, I swear a lot!

Another One Bites The Dust

      They just keep getting taken away. Rest in peace, John Pinette. Thanks for the many laughs you provided; you will be missed.

Glad I Slept In

      This day needs to be over as quickly as possible. To speed up its end, I'm going to sit on my ass watching movies, playing games and listening to music. I wish I'd never gotten up.
      No, I didn't receive any bad news. Thank goodness. I'm just menstruating and out of chocolate, again. My hair is greasy, again; I swear, every time I close my eyes it's time to wash my hair. And of course, my throat is so sore I don't even want to eat. I tried taking a drink and I just wanted to spit it out so I didn't need to swallow. I'm still exhausted, which in my case means that my body moves too slowly even though my mind is on high speed, and eventually I'll wind up passing out.
      Yep. These are the good old days, indeed. I can't wait till I'm old, gray and thinking back. Maybe I'll see then what's good now.

Cutting The Cord

      I had to break off a virtual relationship today. I had the decency to wait until he had left without saying goodbye, and then I did the deed. I had no choice. When I first met him, I was pretty excited because we both had a Friends List so full that neither of us had room; and we each deleted someone just to add one another. I thought that was so cool.
      Today I blocked him. Not because he was perverted, which he wasn't; not because he wasn't friendly, which he was; but because he was way too friendly. I mean it was quite annoying. He would buy the same car I bought, and then no matter which car I wanted to drive, he'd change to the same type. And then he'd follow me. And every time I strayed too far, he asked me over and over, "Where are you? Where are you?" And somehow, no matter where I went, no matter if I stayed on the roads or glitched into a hidden building, he'd find me. And then he'd drive in circles around me. "What will we do next? What now?" He had the boundless, tiresome energy of a child; with the gamer knowledge of an expert and the possessive, controlling, manipulative, demanding qualities of an egotistical boyfriend. He would sit there and boss people around; and if somebody didn't join an event he queued, he would order that everyone leave. He'd also bitch and moan you into a guilt trip if you told him the truth, no matter what it might be.
      I couldn't take it anymore.
      Yes, I like my friends. My old friends. They were people I didn't dread talking to. I have two new ones I like; but we don't speak much anymore. One of them cut the cord with me because I had different religious beliefs; and then he asked to be my friend again a week later because apparently, he missed my listening ear, my shoulder to cry on, my advice about his personal life; like what should he do about Jenna or Jamie or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was. I put everything into friendships when I like that person, and he ditched me for a religious belief, or lack thereof, which had been the same when we met, and now all of a sudden it's a problem. Okay, so maybe I should have been mad at the time. I was just frustrated and sad, just like a subservient little housewife with her tail between her legs. Now I'm feeling some anger, I guess; because that was pretty crappy of him. But I smiled and got over it, and now look, both he and our mutual friend are ignoring me once again. Well, not constantly. We speak once in awhile, but I think we all lost something. The friend who ditched me for a week, we'll call him 1, when he speaks to me it's normally a good conversation, unless I catch him late, in which case we speak for an hour or so before he goes to bed. And our mutual friend, who we'll call 2, never ditched me over something as petty as a difference of opinion. But, when 2 and I talk, we say a few short words. "Hi, how are ya?" "Good." "Same." "Yea" And poof, gone. He used to always say hi first, and those conversations would fly. It's not like that anymore. I say hi and it goes to shit.
      So maybe the old saying, "It's not you, it's me" really does work in this case. Maybe it is me. I make friends I think are golden, and they either leave - or make me wish they had. I have friends on my list who have been inactive for more than two years. I have deleted relatively new friends who have been inactive for two weeks, simply because they don't come on anymore. Neither do old friends, but they're staying on that list. The difference that keeps them on my list that they spoke to me once. They made me laugh and they included me in their fun times. They made me care about them, though we never met, and they were like a second family. I never wanted to say goodbye at night. But they didn't have that problem. They said goodbye and years passed.
      So basically, if they don't die for real, they just die inside, and are no fun anymore. I'm assuming the friends I haven't seen in years made a suicide pact and all died in one room at one time, because after a few of them said they were giving up on life, they all vanished at once.
      I tried to talk one out of suicide. She had tried the night before, to kill herself. Said she was cutting. Said she was standing on a chair with a rope around her neck, and then she untied it and collapsed on her bed sobbing. She wasn't living a good life, and I'm not even sure if committing suicide was the right answer for her. I know it's a permanent solution to a temporary problem, and it doesn't make life easier for those around you, and you can't take it back, and as you lie there dying you'll be filled with regrets you can never rectify. But her problems lived around her, in her house. Maybe she had no regrets.
      And maybe they really were suicidal and have been locked away in a psych ward. Maybe they're all alive and well, laughing and talking and not even thinking of me. But I wouldn't doubt for a moment that they gave up and kept their promise and died together. They said they would. They were at the other end of the chat room, crying and asking me - me, of all people - what the purpose of life was. I sent the prettiest words I could. I guess I failed. How could I have done it any differently? I was trying to find the purpose of it all myself. The difference is, I'm still here. I said my friends and my family were the reason I woke each morning, and that I would continue to wake.
      Oh, hell. Why did I say that to someone with family problems? I was just luring her into it. I was making her depressed, and I was flaunting in her face the one thing she didn't have. I killed my friend. My words killed my friend. And because she had made a pact, her friends died with her, because of what I said. I get it now. Good fucking Lord.
      ...Of course, that's only if they did kill themselves. Maybe they were cops, keeping an eye on people, finding out what people would say when the topic of a bunch of youngsters offing themselves came up. But that's only what my mother and brother think. Maybe they were just stringing me along, setting me up for a fall I would take alone. It wouldn't be the first time.
      I was never good at making friends. My stepfather once tried to make my friends for me. He would approach children in the street and ask them if they would come inside his house and meet his lonely daughters. He would send them into their parents' arms, making whole families hysterical.
      Thank goodness he never came inside my school. My mother always picked me up and dropped me off. School was hard enough without his interventions. I was the victim of pranks, unkindness, even bullying. Fake insects were put in my locker. My hands were stepped on. I was deliberately tripped. Pencil shavings were put in my hair. Water was put in my seat. My fingers were shoved into an electric pencil sharpener. I was framed for cheating. Which of course I didn't do. I was marking a kid's test, I was still learning how to spell, I wrote a letter in my name backwards, he thought I was erasing his answers and the teacher never gave me a chance to explain myself. School was tough, and I faked illness so often just to get the fuck out of there. I was abandoned several times. Once in the library. I lost focus on what the teacher was saying and had to wander the halls until the teacher realized I was missing and sent someone to find me. And once in the ditch. I got dizzy, I walked sideways and fell in, and they kept walking. Never looked back. Fortunately my mother was driving by and she saw me. By then some kids were pulling me out of the grass, and I just got into the car and asked to be driven home. I don't think I waved to those kids or even thanked them for getting me back to my feet. I hope I thanked them, but that's the one part of that incident I can't recall.
      One person. Just one with a kind heart and I'd find so much I'm missing. 

First Day Of The Fourth Month

      April has been wonderful so far. I didn't think it would be. I washed my hair at 1:00 AM because I knew I would be getting up a little later than planned to start my day. But that problem never occurred, because I barely slept; which of course put me in a grouchy morning mood. Honestly, I thought today would suck, and I would go into a few billion stores and come home empty-handed. But, today was my lucky day! I no longer need to rely on video sites to watch Tangled. I am a proud DVD copy owner. It's still all nicely wrapped up in its plastic, proudly situated on my bookshelf where I keep only the best movies I own. It comes right after the Shrek series and the sequel featuring Puss in Boots. The cat in the hat.
      I also got to satisfy my craving for a chicken burger, even though it came from a restaurant from where my family never wants to order again. The burger was a bit greasy, and the meat was a bit tough, but I devoured it before going to the next store (but maybe that's because my mother waited as I finished chewing the last few bites). And just when I thought my day was done, I even got to order a Sprite.
      My brother bought the third season of The Walking Dead. He doesn't want to watch it tonight, or even wait until Sunday to see it. He said he bought it because he knew I wanted to see it. Isn't that nice? And then, after an unproductive nap (which was nice to try to take anyway), I made my bed and hung up my receipt for Tangled, and with only seconds to spare my brother knocked on my door and said the pot roast was ready. I love pot roast! And it's really, really good dipped in instant potatoes.
      Now, in all my lonesome, I'm off to watch the first episode of Season Three of The Walking Dead. I was going to sneak in some golden bars, even though I'm not technically allowed to be eating in here (even though it is my room and I'm a legal adult paying rent). But, one tiny square won't be enough for an hour, so I'm just going to refill my water and toddle off without my favorite dessert (like a good little girl). You know, even if I do crumb on the floor, which doesn't happen if you break it off over a bowl and keep a hand under it until it's in your mouth, which I do; it's not like we don't have a vacuum. (And today, I'm not even wearing a dress. Know what I mean?) I mean, I have just as much free will as you. I'm twenty-one years, four months and twenty-six days old; and I have to abide by these kiddy rules. Like earlier today, Mom didn't even want me to sit in the car by myself; which I've done so many times that I couldn't even try to count each occasion. The doors do lock, and I was sitting behind one of those annoying windows for kids, the ones that don't go all the way down. My brother tried sticking up for me; but because their store was closed she didn't have to leave me by myself. She backed out of her parking stall and drove to another store; and for the rest of the day, if I didn't get out of the car, someone stayed with me.
      I guess I do need to move out to taste some freedom. That stinks, because my stepfather once tried to get my thirty-something year-old brother to sit in Santa's lap; and back then she would give us more freedom. I swear, she's working in reverse. She wasn't this protective of me as a kid. I mean, she was protective, and she did go the extra mile. But now she's running laps around the border. "I don't want you sitting in the car alone." "I don't want to see dishes anywhere except in the kitchen and dining room!" "I'm keeping a chart of when everyone takes a shower." "Write down every time you get dizzy. And your period!"
      Christ Almighty, I'm going mad. I mean today, I had to start an argument just so she would make my stop. She was expecting me to just submissively accept the fact that everyone's plans are being executed except for mine. No. I'm tired of being unheard. I just wanted a movie, I knew exactly where I could find it, I was able to afford it on my own dime, I didn't get any sleep because I was anticipating this day for a week, and I washed my hair at 1 friggin AM; make the damn stop.
      So. Anyway. Today we passed by this place; and I saw a very disturbing license plate. I won't give out the numbers, for the safety of whomever owns that car. But the first word was my stepfather's name. The last letters were my initials. That pissed me off. It was the last thing I wanted to see. Maybe I'm superstitious, but I kind of saw it as a sign that he's just not dead yet. My mom told me it was a coincidence, don't get so mad; so I said, "Wouldn't you, if those initials were yours?" And of course, she didn't answer, so I knew I'd said the right thing.
      I don't mean I want him to be dead. My heart is unfortunately not made of stone, I do miss him. But he was a jerk. And ever since he died, I've been having vivid dreams where he stumbles into our path and I yell at him for faking his death and my sister and I are beating on him with our sticks. And there's a lot of cussing and crying and then my sister welcomes him back into her life and I still want to beat something up, but she's not letting me. And I've been getting texts and phone calls from his number, and now I see that stupid license plate! All coincidence? Even though he'd been thought as dead before?
      A quote from Rat Race comes to mind, said by my favorite character: "You can't kill him, he's like a cockroach!" Not that I ever beat him up (with anything except a purse, because he once came up from behind me in a store, matching my speed, which you do not do to a girl walking all by herself) or tried to kill him, but my point is that I just don't believe he's dead. I know he wasn't an immortal, he either is dead or will be someday, but I just don't believe he's gone just yet. Sue me.

Another Month Gone

      Don't forget to flip your calendars - happy April!
      In other news, why do people put lowercase Q's in the place of lowercase G's? They are four keys and one row apart! Do they not realize how absolutely and ridiculously stupid it looks? It's not cool, and it stopped being a trend in 2008. Now you're not just a retard; you're also outdated.
      I mean, I can understand it if you're new to the language. At least then you're just trying to communicate with someone who doesn't speak your own. (But seriously, get a teacher.)
      So, here we are, April Fools' Day; a time at which jackasses who deserve a kick in the knickers victimize anyone they see. If you see funny signs in your hometown, just know this. My brother helped kick that idea into execution. Yes, there is a story behind it; and no, I will not tell you unless you have my email address. And no, I am not giving it out. Not like anyone who doesn't have my email address ever ghosts by my profile. Oh well. I, the monarch of solitary confinement, do confess that reigning in isolation is a choice; and that my solitude may be interspersed with company that comes by but may not stay. Signed, The Willfully Regnant Jackass Queen.
      Goodnight, amigos and amigas of the unknown world. May we meet again, though not right away.